


Please Don't Bite

by Moonjay8



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Crossover, Downworlder!Baz, M/M, Shadowhunter!Simon, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonjay8/pseuds/Moonjay8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon is supposed to be one of the greatest Shadowhunters who ever lived. Only, he isn't. Truth be told, he's really a little hopeless. So hopeless, that he can't even kill a vampire. Or won't. Baz insists he just won't. </p>
<p>A Valentine's Day gift for ask_hogwarts_a_question on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Simon Snow was the Mage's Heir. The Mage wasn't really a Mage; he wasn't a downworlder. But he was a very good Shadowhunter. Simon had been hunting downworlders and demons under the careful instruction of The Mage for as long as he could recall.

Now, sitting on the rooftop of the Institute (where he really wasn't allowed), Simon wondered what it would have been like to live some other life.

As an orphaned Shadowhunter, he had been brought to the Insitute when he was just a babe. But, staring across the glowing city, Simon wondered if perhaps life would've been better as a Mundane.

"Simon?" Penny asked softly, climbing down to sit beside him. "Agatha was looking for you."

Simon wasn't in the mood for playing happy couple with his girlfriend, but he thanked Penny anyway.

"I'm assuming you're going out tonight?" Simon had taken of late to wandering the streets at night. With only a hoodie and a seraph blade hidden under his clothes to protect him, Penny thought it reckless. Especially once she found out Simon didn't even bother with a glamour. He liked being inconspicuous for normal reasons.

But she always promised to never tell the Mage.

"It's so peaceful out there. Everyone just goes about their business. Apart from drunken brawls, no one causes anyone too much of a problem, you know? Not like us. We go searching for fights. Nobody else does." Simon said, breathing in the crisp air, before sighing.

Penny shook her head, patting his shoulder as she stood.

"Look out for yourself, okay? You know Agatha and I would never last a day without you." This was only half true. Both Penny and Agatha were much better Shadowhunters than he. But Simon was the glue that held all three together.

And with that, she left.

He knew Penny was gone, but he still checked the roof before he clambered down the ladder.

Donning more mundane clothes, he stepped out past the gates of the Institute. Glancing back to make sure he wasn't being followed, Simon took off into the night.

Unlike most nights, it was almost silent. The world was so still. He could see a spider spinning its web in a dark alleyway, stringing it so carefully together. 

A woman walked hand in hand with her daughter. She seemed wary, but not afraid. Simon smiled as they passed by. The girl grinned. The woman merely nodded, but there was kindness in her eyes.

Simon strolled through the streets, paying no real attention to where he was going. He knew if he wanted he could find his way home. If the Institute really counted as home.

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw a flicker of movement. He assumed it was nothing. But even still, his hand wrapped around his seraph blade, it's name ghosting over his lips, only just loud enough. The flicker turned into a shadow which dashed across his view.

Not a Mundane.

Normally, Simon left the downworlders alone. But this one he'd seen before. He was sure of it. He recognised that movement at the edge of his vision. Recalled the way that shadow had danced at the edge of his peripheral so many times before. Remembered how so often he'd just walked away, as if nothing had ever really been there at all. But not today.

"Why are you following me?" He asked in a low growl, striding confidently towards the darkened alley he knew the figure had run down.

"You're Simon Snow. The Mage's heir." A voice hissed in reply. It was dark, guttural, like it hadn't had a proper conversation in weeks; all sharp edges, full of warning.

"Who are you."

"No one you'd know."

Simon pressed closer, heard the snarling. Maybe a werewolf, he couldn't quite see.

A few steps closer.

No, not a werewolf. 

A vampire.

The vampire was tall, a good few inches taller than Simon. His hair was slicked back, but a few strands hung into his face. Pale skin, fangs glinting beneath his lips. Cold eyes. Dead eyes.

Simon raced forward, pressing his blade against the creature's neck. 

"I should kill you." He whispered. Softly. Ferociously. 

If the Mage ever found out he'd let a vampire go, the consequences would be severe. It didn't even bear thinking about.

"I'm not stopping you." The vampire leant forward as far as he could, leaving Simon with an unsettled feeling rustling through his head.

"But I warn you," his teeth now gleamed in the pale moonlight. "nothing is without its consequences."

The words rung clear through his head, echoing. He could kill him if he wanted, yet here this downworlder was, pressing closer to a blade that had killed so many of his kind before. It unsettled Simon.

He sneered, before taking a step back, loosening his grip on the seraph he had clutched in his hand.

"I'm not going to kill you. That's not why I'm out tonight." Simon ruffled his hair with one hand, never taking his eyes off the tall figure in front of him. "I'm only out to enjoy the quiet."

The vampire seemed to relax, although his gaze still held the same intensity.

"But I won't hesitate to kill you if you cross my path again." Simon said sharply, the warning dripping from his tongue.

He turned to leave, before stopping, spinning on his heel slowly to face the vampire.

"What's your name?"

"What's it mean to you?" The downworlder grumbled. Simon shrugged, fingering his blade.

"Nothing. Only, I spared your life?" He let the question hang in the air. The vampire fidgeted uncomfortably, before finally spitting out a garbled phrase. Simon furrowed his eyebrows, unsure as how to respond.

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch." The vampire clarified, before adding softly "But Baz is fine."

Simon nodded.

"Baz. Simon." On an impulse, he stuck out his hand for Baz to shake. It seemed out of character compared to his previously aggressive demeanour, but in truth it was closer to the real Simon. Baz seemed taken aback, but after a moment's hesitation, he gingerly shook it. Simon noted that he had a very firm grip.

"Don't kill anyone." He warned, before turning and walking away.

Of course, simply waking away wasn't that easy. The whole treck back to the institute, his head screamed at him to go back and kill the vampire. Turning his back on one of _them_ went against all his years of training. But Simon just kept moving, determined to just leave this strange encounter behind and forget about it.

Still, Baz kept fizzing through his mind. The way his fangs pushed against his top lip, red from the strain, or perhaps from a recent feed. Haunting eyes, and a sharp widow's peak.

It was a long walk back for Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally going to be just a oneshot kinda thing. But... That didn't work out. So, yeah, um, I suppose I now have to see this through to the end. I'm hopeless at multi-chapter stories, so it won't be that long. But I'm gonna stick with this. I haven't read past the second book of tmi, so there shouldn't be many spoilers. I also apologise for any inaccuracies since its been a while; wikis are currently my best friend. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha is getting tired of being a perfect girlfriend. That's not to say she doesn't love Simon, no, in fact it's far from it. It just means things have changed.

Simon wasn't one for romance. Agatha found out very quickly when, for their first ever date, he ordered take away and took her up to the roof. Where they went every day.

"I lit candles?" She remembered him saying, that puppy dog expression on his face that meant he didn't know what he'd done wrong.

It had been a nice evening, granted, but Simon must've noticed the slight disappointment on her face because she had seen his fall too. Some days, it felt like all Simon did was try to make up for never being good enough.

Agatha had learnt to overlook the cracks in their relationship. The way his arm didn't feel quite right around her waist anymore, the fact that he looked at her less like the beautiful moon than the brilliant sun, too bright to look at. She ignored the fact that he had forgotten countless little things. Important dates. Anniversaries, and birthdays, and names, and faces, and the fact that she was allergic to pineapple.

But he tried, and she loved him for that. He tried so hard, and they made it work, most of the time. Agatha used to think he was the stars. The greatest shadowhunter ever. Then, she grew to know him as Simon Snow, friendly and silly and obsessed with sour cherry scones. Now, Agatha knew him as the boy she loved just a little less than she used to each day. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't force her feelings back to the way they were before.

Of course, she still loved him. They were friends before they were a couple, and that would never change. But she couldn't help but wonder if this is really all there was in life. If what was in her "best interest" was really what she wanted. 

Agatha mulled over her thoughts, ignoring the book perched on her lap. It was mostly for aesthetics anyway; she was kidding herself if she thought she had the energy to read, though she still kept it open to the last page she'd gotten up to, a silent promise that one day she'd feel free enough to do whatever she wanted.

Simon trudged through the door of the institute, trekking mud. His hoodie was pulled down to conceal his face, and it was obvious that he had been out walking again. Agatha feigned obliviousness, glancing up sweetly from her book.

"Hello Simon, did you go out?" She asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Simon shifted his weight uncomfortably, and Agatha could see the lie brewing behind his eyes. 

"No, I was just up on the roof. It's quite cold out tonight. And, um, the ground was fairly muddy, and I didn't realise." He tripped over his words, pointing at the muddy footprints.

Agatha nodded as though this was a perfectly reasonable explanation of how he'd spent his evening. She wanted to know, desperately, what Simon spent his time doing. Wanted to grab him by his collar and shake some sense into him because there was no time more dangerous than the night. But instead, she bent down to untie his shoelaces. Simon knelt to help her.

"Thank you." 

She didn't know if he was thanking her for helping with his shoes, or for acting as though his lie was truth, or for something far deeper, but Agatha just replied with a polite "you're welcome" and placed his shoes gently by the door.

"Did you eat dinner?" Agatha asked casually, pressing a kiss to his cheek with practiced ease. Sheepishly, Simon shook his head. They both knew how the rest of the evening would go. Agatha would find Simon something nice to eat, they'd chat, maybe curl up by the fire, then go to bed, both feeling like the night had taken something from them, leaving them feel that bit more empty.

Agatha felt herself take Simon's hand, dragging him to the kitchen on autopilot. She pulled out a chair for him (because she insisted that girls could be just as chivalrous as men) and set to work reheating dinner.

As she worked, she hummed, listening to Simon chatter animatedly from the table.

"And then I found this really cool book, that I think Penny would like. Oh, and I watered some flowers!"

Agatha turned around in confusion, still stirring the left over soup she was heating on the stove.

"Why were you watering flowers, Simon?" If there was one word to describe Simon, it would probably be _strange_.

"Well, I figured it was a nice day, and they were looking a little sad. And we're supposed to keep the institute looking nice and stuff, so I figured it was important?" Simon shrugged, seeming just as puzzled as Agatha was. To be honest, she suspected he was just trying to find something to do with himself.

"You're hopeless Simon." She muttered affectionately, placing the warm bowl of soup in front of him, before sitting down opposite. They sat in relative silence, not awkward but also having nothing to fill the silence with.

This was not how Agatha was going to spend her night. This was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

"Look, Simon, I'm going to go to bed, alright." Agatha said, standing. As she brushed past, Simon reached out to grab her hand, his blue eyes wide and imploring.

"We're alright, aren't we?" He asked, not quite a statement, not quite a question.

"Sure." Agatha sighed tiredly. Tired seemed to be her default these days.

"Good night Simon."

And with a flick of her hair, she drifted out of the kitchen, gliding up the staircase to her room. 

Standing in the doorway, she took a breath, brushing the loose strands from her eyes. 

It was elegant, with a sort of girlish charm. Usually, she would take the time to bathe in the small luxuries of the room; the huge bed, the delicate porcelain statues on display by the window, the lamp on her bedside table that cast the room into a soft pink light. But tonight, she simply slipped from her day clothes, turning down the sheets and sliding into bed.

There she huddled, knees tucked up to her chest, quilt wrapped around her tightly as she grabbed a book that was perched next to her lamp.

It was a quaint little book, with elements of mystery, and a fair helping of good romance (Agatha was a sucker for romance; she loved the idea of a perfect fairytale). But as she read, the words slipped straight out of her head, and Agatha found that she couldn't for the life of her decipher what was happening.

Simon kept flitting through her mind.

Simon. Simon, who was probably sitting in the kitchen wondering what was wrong. Simon, who would eventually have to find out that they weren't working. That there was so much missing. 

In many ways, Simon was the most naive of all of them. Even Agatha knew that, as much as she wished, black and white truths and perfect fairytales didn't exist.

But Simon? He still believed that all downworlders were evil. Agatha, as much as she knew that the Mage was a great Shadowhunter, could no longer trust him. But Simon clung to his every word. He'd kill any demon or downworlder without a thought if the Mage asked it of him. 

Penny and Agatha had never liked the idea of killing downworlders, but a year or so ago they'd simply decided to stop altogether. The downworlders still avoided them, mind you. But at least there was less bloodshed.

It was one of the main causes of fights between her and Simon. He believed that the downworlders were inherently evil, and that they needed to be controlled, or stopped. He saw them and demons as one and the same. Agatha could hardly blame him, it was the Mage's corruption showing through his otherwise kind personality.

Nothing sat quite right with Agatha anymore. Simon, the Mage, the downworlders, it all felt like she'd come home to find everything shifted a few inches to one side. And everything was exactly the same, minus one small thing that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

A knock on the door caused her to jump. Glancing up from her book, she invited the knocker in with a soft voice.

Simon stuck his head through, holding a small wrapped gift in his hands.

"Hey. Look, I know our anniversary's not for another month, but I wanted to give you something. We've been so tense of late, and I suppose this is kind of an apology for that." He said, stepping through the door to hand her a white box, wrapped prettily with a pink bow. Probably Penny's handiwork.

Simon sat on the edge of her bed, carding his hands through his hair. Agatha pulled delicately at the bow, placing it to one side before she opened the box. Inside sat a sparkling necklace. It wasn't particularly fancy, but it was very pretty. 

"Do you like it?" Simon asked hopefully. Agatha nodded, all smiles and calm eyes. Reaching forward, Simon latched it around her neck. It felt like a noose.

"It matches my eyes." She whispered softly. Simon kissed her carefully, before rising to his feet.

"Good night Agatha." Agatha blinked, watching as he closed the door, before getting up, and walking over to her dresser.

Gingerly, she took of the necklace, placing it in the centre. It was a kitten, small and fragile. It was very beautiful, Agatha had to give him that.

She sighed heavily, fingering the edge of the wood. If someone had given her a choice between never dating Simon, and whatever else it was she could've done with her time, she would've chosen Simon. Would still choose Simon. She didn't regret that.

But everything, even love, had its time.

Ignoring the tightening of her throat, Agatha went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it. Second chapter. Sorry this took forever, depression kicked motivation out of the house for a while. I'm happy with this, though. It's not very long, sorry, but I'm not good with long chapters. I will attempt the thing, however. Um, comments keep me going? As does kudos and subscribing, but comments in particular. (I mean, I'll update anyways, but it would be nice?)


End file.
